The Girl With The Nightingale (The Stranger)

   Where is everybody? human beings are gone. I mean, you see people wandering around lost in their own assumptions and thoughts. In which mystery Land ourselves are waiting while we are busy not leaving our lives?

****

  When the night falls on my island, the sky unites with the sea into one single body. Every night the same matrimony.
  Those hours, if someone navigates in the middle of the Ocean. Is he able to figure out, whether he travels on the waters or the ethereal field?
   I feel sorry for those wanderers that didn't finish navigating before dawn. I imagine them castaways, sunk among the clouds. Or, even. Evenfall into an air gap and lose their selves among the waves.
  The destination of departure is changing upon arrival. Whilst return is never a matter of choice.

****

  In the beginning, he was looking at me from a distance. It took me days to realize.
he was staring at me dancing, sharpen my sword, ditching my compass.
  What happens if you hold a compass vertically? At which point of the horizon, is the center of the Earth?
  He was a stranger. Foreigners have the bad habit to wander around, never stay where they come from. Otherwise, we wouldn't create this word to describe them.

****

Once upon a time, my Nightingale told me, that we are all foreigners. We are all strangers. Shuttered under the enormous dome.
 Because escape is a refuge.
And further, then that is the endless dessert with the extreme weather conditions. Never have I seen anyone dying from savage winds. But I have seen them dying locked up, inside their secured and windproof homes.
   "oh, even though, the wind was blowing inside their heads." Said, my Nightingale.

  Yes, I chat with birds. It happens. In other cases, people chat with their fears.

****

  He started looking at me discreetly, he was silent. Each time barely covered behind something. The first meeting happens with the eyes. Recommendations, promises, and hopes are already given. And then, we start talking.
  The longer you are looking at a stranger, the more familiar he becomes. Who said that our glances, don't have the ability to transform?
  He was staring at me for days, now I was staring at him as well. Something changed, the importance of reality decreased a strain.
  He finally spoke first:
  
"- I drunk the Easter coast and wiped up with the maps. There is a town on the West and a harbor,  from where nothing sails and nothing arrives at. The weather won't take me longer, since am not from here. Always go against the weather. When you think of something that you love, you glow.."

****

  I get transparent during the day, extension layers are visible through me. Those moments I'd rather look myself in the mirror. My nightingale is still traveling. Someone randomly found my island. A stranger, from another place. I asked him:

" - How can somebody defines the limits between reality and dreaming?"

"- We need to hold each other's hand, a moment before sleeping."  He responded.

The Girl With Τhe Nightingale

And he says: '' I haven't found the meaning of life yet. 
                         

Have you?'

''I?  
I am the meaning of  life!''

  When I talk to them they are looking at the ground. And I imagine that under the ground is a basement and under the basement, a huge dragon is curled into the dirt.

Snores fire, feeds himself from the bark beetles of time, pleistocene, miocene, oligocene, hollow. 

 The hair on his back emerges on the surface of the Earth. We call them ''trees''.

So I imagine that my boys have the magic ability to listen to the dragon's dreams. Sometimes they are able to intervene to them. That's why I don't disturb them, I just keep talking to myself. My boys are worthy of respect for keeping the beast asleep. I prefer this image for my boys than any other. I could for example believe that they were captains and their ships sunk in a distant sea from a wild storm and since then, they have lost their minds. They don't look up, cause if they do, they start planning how to march through. But in this land, there are no marches for many years. Nobody goes anywhere. It would be painful having all those imaginary maps inside your head and not a single way to rejoice them.

If I figure out that they are responsible for shipwrecks I will drown them. They would've been the reason why am staying here, dry and fortified.

***In the Middle Ages you could point out a witch from a black cat that was following her everywhere, you can understand many things for a person based on what comes along.

Those animals that accompany significant people in a mystic dialect are called ''psychoanemistes''. I am not significant and definitely am not a witch. But a small bird always follows me, is a nightingale.

***If I had God in front of me, and I could ask Him only one question, it would be:

Would you dare for once to become human and see if you could find thy self again?

I already guess His answer:

I do it every day, all those who came and those who follow is me, who forgot, searching to find my way back over and over again.

I would be terrified by such an answer - well, that's why am in a position to guess it.

You think is normal that am setting up imaginary talks inside my mind? Perhaps someone should grab my shoulder and shake me back to reality, or just grab my shoulder.

*** My Grandfather was telling me a proverb: Don't invite during the night if you are farming in the yard. I often lay down on my bed and cry. All of a sudden. For no reason. My bedroom has no ceiling. Above my head, my nightingale is drawing invisible oval shapes on a blue sky.

Where I come from, animals are fed from love, just like the newborns from the breast. If they don't receive enough love per day, they become inanimate objects waiting to get older.

We used to be animals.

It appears that birds own a larger share of space than us. My grandfather used to say: ''Everything will be OK in the end, if not OK then is not the end.'' My grandfather managed to trick everyone at his funeral, he didn't make a sound neither he moved, at all.

I lied, my bedroom has a ceiling. On top of everywhere, I've been so far, there was a ceiling.

***

 They don't like straight lines. They often move away, they are afraid of tidal waves. They remember everything and never make mistakes. They arrived here yesterday, they demand hugs for satisfaction.

Who knows what they have grabbed with them upon departure.

The curse of your bandit is that he can't stay with you for long.

***

My palms are gentle, my purpose is plain. I've been told that trees need the singing of the birds to grow and bloom in Spring. Every Spring my nightingale migrates, it flies to forests far away to perform its best. Underneath their roots, liquids flow. Each peak is a possibility that hasn't yet happened. The snow from the highest mountains melts in order to meet the trees.

The most precious thing I ever received, was a glass of water the exact moment I was thirsty. The era didn't matter.

With my own sword, I scratched my brand new back. We place our hopes on the base of our spine. Therefore, when hope is gone, we are bending over.

***

My other half is not a half. It must be three quarters or less. Everything fades away over here and is been a long time since then. I am afraid that when he finally arrives, there will be nothing left for me to recognize. 

The journey is fascinating. The Unconditional scares me. This is the equation of my life. An equation inconceivable.

I am afraid that my other half is actually whole. And won't be able to swallow me or digest me. Oh for sure, my other half should be a tiny bit less than a half, in order to overcome myself, when I shall give it over. 

Only then I will stop thinking of the journey. Because I will be further away than ever.

***

I lost my nightingale. On this Island, nothing can be gone for long. But is gone, I can't find it anywhere. It left behind it colorful feathers and enormous forests. Perhaps it went to meet the Unconditional. I am well aware though that the sea that surrounds us is holding the islands and the bridges we build are burned by the fire.

  The bird was my only hope. No one will find me now. They would have seen it from afar and they would know that human life is under it. Isn't it what a castaway is doing? He is throwing something up high, in order to make himself visible, along with and across...

When you lose something you love, something precious, your reality gets darker. Regularly, when the night comes you go to bed to get some sleep. But if you've spent a lifetime dreaming, is impossible to fall asleep.

It happened all of a sudden. Shortly after my great loss. In the beginning, I was rising myself two inches above the ground. For a while. Now am finally flying, slowly and in circles. Just like my nightingale. Alas, though. There is nothing left beneath me longing, or hoping for.

Validation

..Often, we seek validation in the places we were once injured. We feel in order to heal it, someone has to see it and love it, because in the past it was mistreated, abused, neglected or belittled.

Rather than looking for something outside of yourself to heal or feel loved and accepted - go deep within to where the Truth resides and the ever abundant source of Unconditional Love exists, that knows you and sees you.

Remember that often we are insulted and harmed in the places where our greatest gifts, strengths and abilities lie.

Rather than hide your truth and self-worth or be confused by it because it was harmed - let it rise up in you even stronger than ever, so that the Truth is set free, rather than silenced because someone was threatened, jealous, or afraid of your power and expression.

The pattern will continue if you hold on to their mistake, and expect flattery or validation to heal it. Those voices come and go, as the voices that insult do as well. It is up to us to own our power, truth, inner-beauty and strength, regardless of outside opinion.

We have nothing to lose anymore - but the need to get rid of the veils, obstacles and afflictions that came from outside of ourselves.

Maybe we attracted it to ourselves to know the human condition and where transformation is needed most, in order to change the game and be senior to the lower forces of cruelty, ignorance and deceit.

Be guided by Spirit, not the voices of humans who haven't woken up to their own divine nature. If they don't know it is within them, they can't see it in you. Don't let them blind you to who you truly are.

It is never to late to recover our treasures!